


To Serve the Queen

by writerfan2013



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Leon cannot control his fantasies, Luckily Gwen knows what's up, Medieval style smut, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerfan2013/pseuds/writerfan2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Arthur fell, Sir Leon stands at Queen Guinevere's side, her friend, her protector, her help in all royal matters.  But he is troubled by thoughts of serving her in another way...</p><p>This was smut, but then fluff kept trying to emerge. Now I don't know what this is. Leon x Guinevere Let me know what you think! -Sef</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Two years ground past and the Queen's strength never wavered. All of Camelot told how she wept after the great battle, but briefly, and followed her tears with action so that the kingdom which was now hers should suffer no more.

Leon, the chief of the knights, stood at her side, ready to help the Queen in anything she asked.  The knights expected every day the sorcerer Merlin, but he did not return. The Queen did not seem surprised.  Leon understood. Merlin's grief was deep and sharp, like the Queen's own. He had loved the King as much as she. And after a while she ceased to mention him.

The knights showed her staunch faces at court and in council, for which Queen Guinevere was grateful. She knew they mourned the King, but she needed to work, to rule, to be the Queen, and weeping distracted her from that task.

And as season followed season, the pain diminished a little, like leaves falling from a tree after a long autumn, and all that was left was the memory of pain, like empty branches in winter.

Xxxx

One afternoon the Queen called Sir Leon to the terrace which overlooked Camelot's main square. They stood for a while enjoying the spring air, in the easy silence that comes from long acquaintance. The Queen's long hair was braided severely about her face, and she held her slight form graciously, but rigid. Only her gown stirred in the breeze, and Leon, looking down at her, wished he could make her laugh as she used to when the King was alive.

"I wish to go hunting," said the Queen.

"You dislike hunting, majesty."

"Yes." She sighed, and paced around. "What I want is to leave Camelot, for a time. To be alone. Just to walk in the woods, and... Own my own face. I feel as if my face is made of marble, like some grotesque statue. Do you understand?"

Leon thought that the Queen could never be less than beautiful, but he said, "You are not marble, majesty. You live, and breathe, and feel."

She smiled at him then. "Your kind heart speaks again, Leon. Truly I no longer feel... anything."

"To be numb is still a feeling," he said. He took a step forward but stopped before his hand met hers. "A soldier stills his heart before battle. He must. He must not feel, for that period. And sometimes it takes a while after the battle is won, for his heart to beat again. That is all."

She smiled sadly. "And what if the battle is lost?"

"Then..." Her eyes held such sorrow, and he searched for comfort. "Then the heart beats still, but the soldier might pretend it does not, for that would be easier. Any man could understand that."

She sighed.

"Your heart beats," he said. "Even if sometimes you wish it did not."

"Leave me," she said in a low voice, and he bowed and walked away.

But later that night, worried for her state of mind, Leon returned and stood outside the Queen's door. He nodded to the guards stationed at either end of the passage which held the royal quarters. They let him pass, chief of the knights, and he stood outside the Queen's chamber door and listened.

The guards were watching, so Leon prepared to make a slight show of knocking and waiting for an answer.

But even as he lifted his hand to strike the oak, he heard voices within. Guinevere's, certainly, her sweet tone could not be mistaken, but the other voice was a man's.

Leon could not make out the words. He strode back to the guards. "Does the Queen have a visitor?"

"No, sir. No one has passed this way tonight, not on our watch."

Leon fixed his face in a neutral expression, nodded at the guards and returned to the door. He did not want to comprise the Queen, but still that was definitely a man, in her chambers, at night.

There was conversation, back and forth between the man and Guinevere. Leon heard the Queen laugh.

That was enough to make him step back. The Queen had hardly smiled in two years. Whoever her visitor might be, he had cheered her.

Leon strode away and returned to his own chamber on the next side of the quadrangle. His little lamp was already burning. He threw off his mail and hung his sword and belt neatly beside his bed. Crossing to the window, he peered into the night.

There was a dim light at the Queen's bedroom window, a candle like his own. But Leon could not see movement, or any detail past that glow.

He tore off his linen shirt, and his breeches, and lay naked on his bed. What man was this, who could so amuse the Queen?

Why had he, Leon, her chief protector, been too cowardly to knock?

The Queen was not in danger, that was why. Her low laugh was easy, unforced, the laughter of simple intimacy. Like a laugh between lovers.

Leon pushed his fingers through his hair. Who was this man? Guinevere had given no hint that she had involvement with anyone.

He could not blame her. She was widowed, and alone. Even today she had hinted that she longed for happiness in her life. Concerned for her, he had never imagined that she had already found some joy, in the arms of a lover.

Leon closed his eyes. Without his knowledge, Guinevere had found this comfort. He felt a strange guilt, that he had not known. -As if the Queen's bed was any concern of his. He was only her knight, her kingdom's protector. This man had in mind other duties, which were not permitted to Leon.

Was this stranger even now sliding away the sleeves on the Queen's gown, exposing her full breasts, and untying her hair to trail over the bare skin of her back? Did he kiss her, pressing her nakedness to him, and enjoy her laughter as he carried her to the bed?

Was he even now pulling down his breeches, the Queen's skirts shoved back around her waist-? Yes- He looms above her, his member proud and stiff, the Queen's soft hands at his waist, drawing him towards her. Her breasts entice him, each teat hard like a tower on a hilltop, and she throws back her head as he mounts her, plows her, her wanton cries of pleasure echoed by his own coarse grunts, again and again...

Leon cried out, stifled the sound at once, and reached for his shirt. He dabbed at his chest, torn as always between satisfaction and horror.

He lay, breathing hard, on the bed, and tried to put such unworthy images from his thoughts. But he heard again in his mind that low, careless laugh, and saw that even now there was a light shining in the Queen's bedchamber.

Leon drew a shuddering breath. These things were not his concern, so long as the Queen was safe. But perhaps he would question the guard again tomorrow, and perhaps, too, he would encourage the Queen in her hunting trip, or any trip, in the fresh air away from Camelot and its heightened atmosphere of drama and desire.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"We will stop here," said the Queen, and the party halted, and men began to set camp.

Leon scanned the position. Here was nowhere, a patch of woodland at the very edge of Camelot, on a ridge overlooking the nearby kingdoms. Nemeth was closest, but really this was a place of no consequence. Yet the Queen had insisted on riding out today, to this place.

The Queen gestured to him. He approached, held out his arms and helped her from her mount,  her weight as nothing, her eyes grateful as he set her on the ground. He offered her his gloved hand and accompanied her to the edge of the ridge.

"Let us watch the sunset, Leon," she said. "For I think it is very nearly sunset."

"It is exactly sunset," said a voice.

Leon spun around, pushing the Queen behind him, drawing his sword.

"It's all right," said Guinevere.

A man stood before them, a tall man wrapped in a turquoise cloak. He had wild black hair and a full black beard, but his eyes were familiar, and gentle, and he smiled a kind smile at Leon and the Queen.

"Merlin," said Leon.

"Hello, Leon," said Merlin.

Xxxx

"An arranged meeting. After two years, an arranged meeting."

"More than two years," said Gwen. "Merlin proposed this plan to me long ago, after Arthur and I were first wed. That should Arthur fall, Merlin would vanish, and return much later."

"I came to Camelot to confirm my return," said Merlin, eating an apple. He smiled at the Queen, and Leon glimpsed the elfin boy he had once been. "Last week."

"But I thought it best that we meet away from Camelot, as if by chance," said Guinevere. "There can be no question of Merlin's loyalty if I bring him back."

"Nobody questions you," said Leon to Merlin.

"I have been gone for two years," said Merlin. "People will want to know why I was not at the Queen's side."

"You were grieving," said Leon.

"Yes." A shadow passed over Merlin's face. "But also I was working. Setting spells to protect this land. To help Gwen any way I could, even though I could not bear-"

The Queen took Merlin's hand. "I know," she said.

"You knew of Merlin's magic, my lady?" asked Leon.

Guinevere smiled and lowered her gaze. "I always knew," she said. "But it could not be spoken of." She lifted her eyes to Merlin's. "Now at last you are free."

"Not of sorrow," said Merlin.

"Come back with us tomorrow," said Guinevere. "I will honour your service to Camelot, to Arthur, in front of the whole court. We will tell the story of all the times you served your king, and how you tried to save him at the last."

Merlin shook his head.

"Come back," the Queen said. There was steel in her voice.

Leon's hand went to the hilt of his sword without him willing it, for Merlin did not immediately answer. It was ridiculous, for what could a sword do against the great sorcerer?

But at the same time Leon marvelled at Merlin's hesitation, for the Queen was gazing at him with mingled plea and command, a thrill in her voice as she added, "I need you, Merlin."

Merlin let out a breath and nodded slowly. "I will," he said. "Because you ask. But the story... The story can wait. It would be good to just... Sit and talk. Of better times."

"Of course." Guinevere turned to Leon. "See that Merlin has adequate accommodation in camp tonight, and in Camelot when we return. He has travelled far."

"Of course, majesty."

"Thank you," said Merlin to Leon. "It's good to see you."

"And you..." What title does one give a sorcerer, who was once a servant, but also the bosom friend of the King? "...Merlin."

Merlin looked at Leon, and something flickered in his dark eyes.  Calculation? Suspicion? Leon blinked. That was ridiculous. There was nothing to suspect. The world knew of his loyalty, just as it knew of Merlin's.

"I will retire," said Guinevere, "as soon as my tent is prepared."

"Yes, my lady," said Leon.

"Walk with me, Merlin," the Queen said then, and offered Merlin her arm. He took it, and Leon saw gladness between them.

Leon watched them stroll away. He thought of Merlin saying that he had been in Camelot recently. He thought of Merlin, who had fooled them all for ten years. And then Leon knew exactly how a man could have got into the Queen's chambers without being observed. It was perfectly possible, it was indeed simplicity, for a man like Merlin.

Xxx

Leon cast his cloak on the ground at the end of his watch, and lay down to sleep. The forest was quiet. Camelot was at peace. The knights watched the camp, and the Queen still conversed with Merlin in her tent. Their shadows fell against the canvas, a low table between them, holding a lamp, a carafe of wine and two goblets.

Leon had murmured to the Queen that she ought to have another with her, that to entertain a man in her tent at night was dubious.

She laughed. "Oh Leon," she said. "It's Merlin. We are only going to be talking about Arthur."

"My lady. I would be happy to join you and talk about the King too."

"I know," she said.

"You only ever needed to ask," he said, aware that he sounded peevish.

"I know," she said again. "But I want Merlin tonight. Another night I will ask you, I promise." She lay her hand on Leon's sleeve and smiled up at him. "Go to bed," she said.

And so he went. Commanded to rest, nonetheless he could not. The watch were not in earshot. The other men were asleep, their snores drowning out any sounds of conversation from the Queen's tent. Leon lay watching the stars, and the shadows on the canvas - until the candle went out.

He sat up. Merlin was the Queen's friend, of course, but a friend knows better than to spend the night with his queen, unaccompanied.

Surely neither of them were foolish enough to be intimate in the midst of the camp, with the men, with him close by?

Leon had a vision of Merlin, this new, black bearded Merlin, whispering to Guinevere as they lay together in her cot. We must be quiet, he whispers. Or everyone will hear, everyone will know when I do this....His hand is at her throat, unlacing her bodice. His voice is in her ear, murmuring what they will enjoy together under the noses of every man in camp. Do not cry out, comes the whisper. Be silent when I enter you, silent while we writhe together, be silent when you feel my seed release deep within you-

Leon clutched his sword. There were no whispers, just his own imagination, making him hot. He lay back down. It would be brazen indeed to lie with the Queen, and with her entourage six feet away. It would be madness.... Their beloved queen, her hand stealthy beneath the bed covers, grasping your member, stroking and caressing, while you try to remain still and silent, try to gain battle numbness, because otherwise her touch will disarm you completely, and one sound from you will bring the watch running in, to find you exposed on the Queen's bed and her pleasuring you with a look of cool command on her face, and even as the watch gather in horrified fascination she does not stop, but continues the work, every part of you on view, her one hand holding yours against her bare breast, her other slippery over your member until at last she nods her dismissal and you collapse...

Every soldier learns to be silent in camp, for sleep is sacred, and dreams of sweethearts even more so. Leon covered his face with one palm, his cloak secure around him, and made no sound at the vivid ideas which came to him.

The stars spun, for a moment, above the trees, and as he lay calming his breath, his hot brow, he realised that there was no noise from the Queen's tent, and never had been.

 


	3. Chapter 3

There was music, and dancing, and a great spitted hog at the feast for Merlin's return. Merlin sat at the Queen's right hand, taking Leon's usual place, and joked about how he felt he ought to be working.

 

"It's strange," he said. "To be here."

 

"Camelot honours you," she said. But then she clapped her hands for silence. She stood, and lifted her cup. "We are here," she called out to the great hall, "to celebrate the return of our friend, Merlin, whose magic protects us all." Applause rang around the hall. "But I wanted to take this moment also to honour one man, whose friendship and loyalty have sustained me through the bleak time of my grief, and who I value greatly. Sir Leon!"

 

She lay her hand on Leon's and raised him to his feet so that all might see. He nodded at the crowd, mightily embarrassed as they cheered and clapped. The Queen stood with her hand on his, beaming, until the noise died down. Then she said, "Dancing!" and sat while men pushed aside the tables.

 

"Thank you," murmured Leon as he too sat back down. "My lady."

 

"You are welcome. Now, will you lead me to the dance?"

 

"Me?" Involuntarily he glanced at Merlin.

 

"The chief of my knights, who else? What other man could perform this task?"

 

Leon stammered. In two years, dancing had never come up.

 

"Do you want me to give some other knight this duty?"

 

"No."

 

He stood, and gave her his hand. At the centre of the circle of couples, they clasped hands as the band struck up. The Queen seemed carefree, younger, and she floated like thistledown. "Do you know the steps?" she cried as they began their whirl around the room, skipping, hopping, jumping.

 

"Of course!" Leon answered, for every child learned this dance, a game of pursuit and capture.

 

"Then catch me," she said, releasing his hands and weaving in and out of the other dancers, under their arched arms, as the whole hall clapped and stamped in time.

 

Leon ducked, crouching, under the bridges of the other couples' arms, and laughed as he followed the traditional pursuit of his partner. The other couples peeled off from the circle to follow, until the whole set were weaving in and out of a joined, wobbling line of arms and couples.

 

At last the pairs returned, and every man lifted his lady and swung her about, to finish at last in his arms.

 

The Queen was breathless and laughing, her arms about Leon's waist, her face lifted up to his. On the impulse of the moment he caught up her hand and kissed it, glad to see her so happy and free.

 

She widened her eyes.

 

"Sorry," he said. "Forgive me, my lady."

 

"Again," she said. She offered him her hand.

 

He bent over it, his mind racing as he lay his mouth on her knuckles.

 

When he looked up, the Queen was smiling. "You did not need to give me public thanks," he said.

 

"I wanted to honour you," she said. "You have been here, ever since.... Everyone knows our friendship, Leon. It is not scandalous, that I toast you, or dance with you, or allow you to kiss my hand."

 

"No," he said. "Of course not. I was not thinking that."

 

She slipped her arms about him once more. "You dance well, sir knight. Let us have another, before I have to work my way around the list of dignitaries."

 

Leon was closer to the Queen than he had ever been. Her skirts,  a deep red, swirled around his boots. Her hair tumbled down her back, silken over his hands. And his hands held tightly to her small waist, revelling in her closeness and her joy. "You should dance with Merlin," he said.

 

She blinked slowly up at him, her lips parting as she prepared to speak. Leon's breath vanished from his chest and his own mouth fell open, for her expression, of amused disdain, combined with her embrace before all this crowd,  was beautiful, and erotic. "Dance," said the Queen, and the music began again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Queen danced, as she had promised, with every noble of the court, and all of the knights, and Merlin. Leon danced too, with the girls and women he had known most of his life, half of them distant cousins, all glad to partner Camelot's first knight, for Leon, though he did not think of it, was handsome as well as brave.

 

The wine and the merry mood made girls bold, and several stole a kiss from his lips as the dances wound to an end. He laughed at that, kissed them back in good spirit, and led them to the next partner.

 

There came a dance of husband and wife, a bawdy dance of flirtation and tease, and such was the light mood of the evening that Leon danced this too, to the delight of the court women. Girls embraced him and squeezed him around the waist and pressed their bodies against him. He laughed and squeezed back a little, why not?

 

One partner made very free with her hands, smoothing her palms over his buttocks, and, when he yelped, bringing her right hand around to the front of his leather breeches, and placing it firmly over his member.

 

They were in a long line of couples waiting their turn to skip through the centre of the set, and so this girl had ample time to explore with her fingers as Leon stood with his arms around her and tried not to look as if a woman caressed him intimately in a room full of his friends and colleagues.

 

He became hard, and hot, and pulled her against him to shield his state. "You're keen," she said, with her hand practically around him, "very keen, sir."

 

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth, and it was very pleasant to be so caressed, but also awful, for he had not chosen this partner. But now it was their turn to dance through the centre of the circle, and take other partners, thank god, and Leon spun the girl around and sent her off, and giddily clutched his next partner to him, still rather stiff in the breeches.

 

His new partner laughed, and then gasped as he pulled her against him, and when he looked down he was clutching to his manhood not some court girl, but the Queen.

 

"My lady-" He drew back.

 

"Hush," she said. "Dance."

 

He clasped her carefully.

 

"I can't promise the attentions of your last partner," she said archly as they twisted and twirled, hands crossed, through the dance.

 

"Majesty, please."

 

"You're not an angel, Leon," she said. "You're a man. I've been married, you cannot shock me."

 

"I did not choose her," he said. "She was not my choice."

 

It was their turn to stand in the line. All around was kissing, and roaming hands.

 

The Queen and Leon stood, gazing at each other, his arms loose about her waist, her hands resting on his shoulders. When it was almost their turn to move, she glanced about. "No one is looking at me," she said. "For one brief moment, nobody is watching."

 

"I can hardly believe that," he said. "I feel as if all eyes are on us."

 

She blinked at him and said, "I was just a court girl, not so long ago. So forgive me." And she came close to him and kissed his jaw, and the silk of her scarlet gown rubbed against his body. A shiver ran through him as her breath warmed his beard, but he only looked down at her lovely face, flushed with wine and dancing, and did not return the kiss. Then the music reached its next chorus, and Leon led the Queen through the centre of the circle, and back to her seat.

 

* * *

 

 

At last the music ceased, and the Queen returned to where Leon held a cup of cool water for her.

 

"I must sleep," said Merlin, who stood nearby. "Please excuse me, my lady."

 

He gave Guinevere his hand, smiling. As they passed Leon heard Merlin murmur, "It is as I said."

 

"No," said the Queen.

 

"Exactly as I said," said Merlin. "Don't worry." He gave her a lightning smile and crossed the hall, his arm raised in farewell.

 

"-Walk me to my chambers," said the Queen to Leon.

 

"Of course, my lady."

 

"Carry me."

 

"No, majesty. I will call your ladies-"

 

"No! I'm sorry. I will walk, of course I will walk."

 

He gave her his arm. She grimaced an apology at him, and they left the hall, the people of the court bowing to the Queen as she passed.

 

Upstairs, Leon escorted the Queen to her door. He opened it and checked inside before ushering her in. "Good night, your majesty. Sleep well. It has been a magnificent feast."

 

"Yes," she said. She cast about, then came to him as he made to leave. "Kiss me," she said imperiously. "Kiss me goodnight."

 

"Majesty. No."

 

"Please."

 

He stepped away. "You are, you have enjoyed a little too much wine, majesty."

 

"Perhaps, yet I still want a kiss from you, a real kiss."

 

"I don't know what you mean," said Leon, who did.

 

"Kiss me like a man," she said, "a man who loves me."

 

He swiftly knelt, and took both her hands in his. "Then like this, my lady." He pressed his lips to her fingers, rose again, and strode from her chambers, calling for her ladies to attend her.

 

* * *

 

 

It was strange. Leon swallowed half a skin  of water and rubbed his hand over his face. The wine, the merriment, was quickly wearing off, but he felt wide awake.

 

He stripped to just his shirt and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around his neck.

 

There was darkness at the Queen's window.

 

Leon closed his eyes and smiled. Once again he was at the feast, dancing with the Queen, whirling her around in his arms and hearing her laughter. It might have been a dream like those he had experienced lately, a dream of wanton desire.

 

Yet now he had actually held her in his arms, felt her breath on his cheek, her hands resting on his shoulders, his waist - now he could only think how sweet and lovely she was.

 

She had embraced him, begged him to kiss her, and not as her friend and protector, but as a man kissing a woman. And despite her plea it never occurred to him to actually do it.

 

He turned on his side. He was to accompany the Queen on her daily ride the next morning, and would need his sleep.

 

But sleep did not come at once. Leon lay dreamily imagining Guinevere, her hand on his, her affection for him shining in her eyes. Perhaps in a hundred years, or a thousand, he might lean down and kiss her,  touch his mouth to her lips and whisper his love, but for now this memory of her was perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm sorry," Guinevere said next morning as soon as they met. "What a fool I made of myself."

Leon handed her her horse. "It is forgotten, my lady," he said.

"You have not, I have not, lost your respect?"

"I was pleased to see you happy, my lady." He helped her mount, and stood patting the horse's nose.

"Likewise," she said. "You danced with everybody, Leon."

"My feet are paying for it this morning."

She laughed. "Then let's ride."

Their little party struck across country to the gentle valley where Leon grew up. He often brought the Queen here on their rides, partly because he knew the ground so well, partly because it was beautiful, and he was glad to see her enjoying the fresh air.

Today she was bright and talkative. Leon rejected that they should hold feasts more often. Or that Merlin should return every week or two, if it cheered the Queen like this.

Now that he had known temptation and conquered it, absolutely conquered it, Leon felt perfectly sanguine about sorcery.

"Where are you taking me today, Leon?" she asked.

He named the village. "Majesty, I have a favour to ask."

"I can hardly refuse."

"I have a small errand, majesty. The knights will escort you in a tour of this area. I will only be a short while."

"What errand?" she asked.

Leon smiled. "I must visit my mother."

"Your mother!" she laughed. "I will come with you, for I know her of old. But your father's land is not near here."

Leon brought his horse nearer to the Queen's. "I lived in my father's house," he said. "My father acknowledged me, raised me, gave me every opportunity. But that lady you remember is not my mother."

"Oh." Guinevere regarded him anew.

"I am his natural son," said Leon. "My father provided for my mother, this is no tragic tale. But he never married her."

"I did not know," said Guinevere.

"Why would you, my lady?"

"Still, I would like to go with you," she said. "If you do not object."

"No, my lady. It would make my mother very happy."

He led the Queen to a modest house at the edge of the village. It was small, but prosperous looking, and vegetables flourished in the garden, chickens pecking among them.

A tall woman with a sun-weathered face came out, beaming at Leon. She stopped dead when she saw the Queen. After a moment she curtsied low.

Leon sprang down and helped the Queen from her horse. "My lady, this is my mother, Hildreth. Mother, this is our Queen, Guinevere."

Guinevere clasped Hildreth's hands and smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you," she said. "Leon is my strong right hand, my true friend, my advisor in everything."

Leon embraced his mother. They were almost of a height.

"I will fetch wine, your majesty," Hildreth said. "And bread. Please come in."

And so Leon found himself in his mother's kitchen, with the Queen, listening as his mother entertained her majesty with stories of Leon as a tiny child. Guinevere smiled, and laughed, and more than once touched Leon's hand as Hildreth told some touching tale of his youthful prowess.

"Forgive me," Guinevere said at last, rising. "I have given you no time to spend together. I will walk around the village with the knights, Leon. Join us when you wish

Leon and his mother protested, but Guinevere insisted. She took Hildreth's hands at parting, and said, "I see now where Leon gets his courtesy, and his goodness."

"I am so proud of him."

"He is everything a son ought to be," Guinevere said. "Everything a man ought to be."

They watched her walk away, to visit with the poor of the village. Leon pulled his purse from his belt and placed it in his mother's hands. He glared away her protests, and she sighed and took it.

"I have something for you too," Hildreth said. She fetched a bag and gave it to Leon. "Cake," she said. "Share it with the others when you get back. And some blackberry wine, just ready from autumn."

She poured him a little from her own bottle, to taste. "The Queen showed you great favour," she said.

Leon knew that tone. "She is a gracious woman," he said. "And she has a kind heart."

"And she is so beautiful," said Hildreth. "I had heard of her looks, but in person she is radiant."

"If you had seen her in her grief you would not say so," said Leon. "I'm glad that she is happier now."

"She loves you dearly," said Hildreth.

"And I love her," he said. "She is our queen, and a great queen too."

Hildreth raised one eyebrow. "That is not what I meant."

"Mother...."

"I've never seen you look at any girl like that. With you it was always hearts and flowers, summer fancy and winter frost. Poetry! But when you look at her, it's... rubies and gold. Something solid and permanent." She lifted one eyebrow. "And not for poetry."

"Mother!"

"I suppose she is good enough for you," Hildreth said. "So long as she treats you right. At least she must honour you. Acknowledge you, as your father did me."

At last, an end to this painful conversation. "As to honour," said Leon, "I must tell you about the feast, and the return of the sorcerer, Merlin."


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner that night was merry, but not quite as merry as the feast. The Queen, blushing, refused wine after one cup. Merlin sat at her left hand, and Leon at her right, and all three conversed together like the old friends they were.

"Will you stay?" Guinevere asked Merlin.

"A while," he said. "Then I will travel. Camelot is at peace but there is still trouble in the world."

Guinevere nodded. "You belong to Albion now."

Leon looked at her, and recalled his mother's words. Could it be true? He doubted himself.

There was no way to discover if his mother's instincts, his own instincts, were correct. Every way led to embarrassment at best, and at worst, disgrace.

When it was time to retire, Leon walked the Queen to her chambers, as always. A always he checked the room before allowing her to enter.

When she was safe inside, Leon bowed, and bade her goodnight.

He waited for her reply, but the Queen frowned, saying, "My knights are very loyal."

"We all love you, your majesty."

"You a little more than the rest, I think, Leon."

His blush confirmed her thought. "I am here to serve you," he mumbled.

"It is all right," she said. "I do not censure you. That is not my purpose."

"How can I help, my lady?"

She approached him, held out her hand. He gave her his, and she lifted it and pressed it to her cheek. Her eyes gave the rest of the message, and in any case, he was not made of stone. He stepped to her and embraced her, chaste enough, her face in his shoulder, her small hands pressing his back.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I did not realise your unhappiness."

She did not reply, only moved her head in a gesture which might have been nod or shake or neither.

"Shall I call one of your ladies?"

"No." Her command was swift. "Lock my door. I don't want anyone."

He hurried to the door.

"I mean with you in here," said Guinevere calmly.

He froze, the bolt still half thrown.

"Then come and take off your mail."

The bolt slid slowly home.

"I have doubts, my lady," he said, returning to where she stood by the window.

"Do you?" she asked, looking up into his face. "Leon. You have served me so well, always at my side, backing me in council, loyal in every word and deed. Do you really doubt this last service?"

She lifted his mail shirt. He took it and raised it over his head, dropped it to the floor.

"A man cannot be commanded to this," he said.

She raised her eyebrows. "I think I could command you to anything," she said.

His shame flared in his cheeks. "Yes," he whispered.

She waited, her gaze heavy on him.

He took a step to her, gathered her into his arms. "Do you command this?" he asked, and bent his face to hers and kissed her mouth, reverently.

She hung her arms around his neck and pushed her bosom against him. "Yes."

"Then I obey." He kissed her again, and now his hands became loose, wandered over her back, her neck, her slim waist. Her mouth was as soft and willing as he had dreamed, and more, for she kissed him in return. His vague imagining, should this moment ever happen, had all been of passive acceptance, his desire not to harm her, his love gently lain on her while perhaps she smiled.

But here she held him tight, parted her lips for his kiss, and sent her hands roaming over his shirt, finding his shoulder blades, ribs, the muscles over his chest. She broke his kiss to lay her own at his throat, her mouth on his skin, and he thought his legs would give way.

She tugged the shirt laces apart and pressed her mouth to his breast. 

Wondering, he lifted her face to his.

"You may," she said, touching the neckline of her dress. Her smile hinted her triumph. "You will."

She was slight and small, and so he scooped her up and lay her on her bed, the better to kiss and caress her throat, her breasts as they heaved to be free of her gown. The lacing of her dress was more elaborate than other girls', but his fingers found the way and together he and the Queen, his queen, slipped the silk aside. She lounged on her pillows in her thin white shift,  loosing her hair, while he tugged off boots and breeches, and crawled back to her side in only his shirt.

"You are sure," he said, "sure," breathless as she took hold of his waist.

"Yes," she said. "Leon."

"My lady. -Guinevere," he breathed.

She smiled and closed her eyes.

He hesitated.

"Do you know what to do?" she asked, opening her eyes once more.

"Yes!;

"Then.... "She stroked his jaw. "Why do you wait?"

"This is not how I pictured it."

"Did you picture soft love, Leon? My breathless declaration while you undressed me in the candle light?"

"Yes."

"This is not that," she said. "Though you must know that I love you for your loyal service."

He was silent.

"Must we discuss it?" she asked.

"Not if you do not wish-"

She sighed. "I can revert to telling you," she said.

"You do not need to," he said. "I truly wish, wish to-"

"Perhaps I would enjoy telling you," she said, "as much as you prefer to be told."

He stared at her.

She found his hand and placed it full on her breast. "Caress me," she said. "And while you caress me, kiss me. Imagine I am some girl, some camp follower, whose breasts are for your pleasure. Imagine that you have carried me to your tent, that the other men pretend to sleep-"

"Oh god," said Leon.

"-And that you lift my skirts so that you can lie with me, on me, and you and I cry out our joy while the others watch secretly from their cots and envy us."

"Any man would envy me this." He peeled back the neck of her shift.

"Then picture it." She threw back her head as his mouth found her bosom. "I command you," she said.

"They are watching," he whispered, sliding his hand to the hem of her shift.

"All may see how we are intimate," she said, and watched his breath shorten, his eyes widen as he pushed aside her skirt.   
"I belong to no man, and every man," she said. "I am the Queen, the property of all, and none. But you are only for me."

"Yes-"

"You are mine here in this room, or in your tent in camp, under the hungry eyes of your comrades."

"Yes," he said. "Give me your order, majesty."

She smiled. His skin was damp and hot, his hair hung over his brow. He lay above her, propped on his elbows, and his legs were entwined with her own. One word would make him hers, and he was desperate for that word. "Do you love me, Leon?"

"I have always loved you," he gasped. Her body enticed him, invited him and yet he must wait, must hold, could not violate for one moment his perfect queen. "Guinevere."

"Then give me your love," she said. "Give me your love now, and fully, in the sight of anyone, do not hold back, I am not delicate-"

He angled his body to meet with hers. She clasped him, and he cried out as their love mingled in every part. "I am yours my lady," he said. "Use me how you will."

And now the deed was begun, more than begun for he shifted his hips above her and she knew his expertise, his surprising experience and confidence. Now she laughed, and stroked his cheek tenderly, and said "Leon, dear heart," and urged him to more.

He laughed too, and said, "Tell me then."

"Give me all, now," she said, and he most ably did.

And at last, it was not an act between a ruler and her subject,  but just between a woman and her chosen man. She urged him with the words and ideas that she knew, now, would entice him, and he filled her with the passion and closeness she had craved. She showed him the longing she had kept hidden, and let him see her in all the softness that a queen may not display.  In his turn, he loved her with all his strength, hard yearning in his every part, fierce passion but tempered with his tenderness. 

She embraced him, held him to her with and and legs, and seeing the end was near, whispered, "Kiss me." He did, his hot mouth blind with passion, and his release was soon in coming.

Afterwards he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her lips, her cheeks, her brow, her eyelashes. He clasped her hand and held it to his chest, among the hair now dark with perspiration.

"You are not like him," she said afterwards. "You have soft hair, and kind eyes, and your body is a soldier's body, like his. But everything is different."

He did not know what to say. "I hope I pleased you," he said at last.

"Perhaps next time," she said.

He exclaimed in surprise, and not a little hurt. "You are cold and hot at once, my lady," he said. "Hot for my embrace and then cold when I have very willingly given it."

"It is how I must be."

"No," he said, emboldened by their intimacy. He smoothed her hair back from her face. "You may be warm with me, my lady. You need not be distant, or majestic. You may love and have no fear of shame or disgrace. You may command me to anything, you know that, and you may be certain of my love, certain that I will never harm you."

She blinked back unwelcome tears.

"And," said Leon, "you must not let me leave you unfulfilled."

He propped on his elbow and smiled, and now she saw in his jaw, his clear confident gaze, the captain, chief of the knights, Arthur's right hand in battle. "This I command," he said, "as a man to his love."

She took several breaths.

"Allow me," he said. "Tell me what pleases you most. Ask anything. You know I will not refuse."

"It is a thing reserved for husband and wife," she said.

"We are lying as close as such," he said.

"I wish to kiss you," she said. She glanced at his nakedness.

He blinked. "You may. God, you may."

"And then I wish...."

"You need not describe," he said. He lay flat, and shrugged his shoulders. "I am here," he said.

Her hand travelled down his lean body. She grasped his member, still slippery with their love making, and began to make a rhythm of caresses. He had been quite spent but her attentions awoke him. She smiled, and swiftly turned about in the bed and brought her lips to his belly. "Do you like this?" she asked.

"Yes-"

"Will you let me do this?" she asked.

"Anything." He meant it.

A seconds later he felt her lips on him, most intimately, her mouth hot, her hand caressing him too. "This is not for you," he said, cursing his own stupidity at this protest. His member was in her mouth and he was asking her to stop, what kind of fool was he?

She lifted her head. "Oh, it is for me," she said. "Because now..."

She lifted her shift over her head and leaned over him, naked and bare, sitting astride him as a man might a woman. His eyes had hardly taken in her wondrous skin before she mounted him with smooth confidence. She leaned down and kissed his mouth, and he tasted himself, and her, all confused and wonderful on his tongue. "Do you object," she asked, and eased her hips away and back again.

"You can do what you will with me."

She smiled broadly. "My perfect Leon," she said. "My dear heart, who knows how to please me."

He could not speak.

"You will do this,"  she said, guiding his hand. "Do this until I say stop." She closed her eyes. "Leon...."

His name, no other's. She was not deluded or wishing herself elsewhere. She was with him alone, and crying out his name.

He held her as she took her pleasure, and at last commanded him to cease. She lay on his chest, their bodies still joined, and breathed with him.

After a while  they rearranged themselves and lay side by side. Leon gazed into her eyes and thought he would never move again.

Guinevere smoothed his hair from his brow. "Dear heart," she said again.

"My heart is yours," he said, clasping her hand.

"And mine is yours-" she said. "Truly. I thought I was empty, done with life. But your kindness, your strength... You have brought me back, Leon."

"We have only lain together, my lady. Love is not ..necessary for that."

"No," she said. "I confess...your fine figure tempted me first." His eyebrows shot up. "Come, you must have some vanity. You know how fine you look, in your mail or out of it.  But I have come to love every part of you. I feel like myself again for the first time in years."

He gave a startled laugh at these compliments. "I thought... I thought Merlin might be the one."

She shook her head. "His love for the King ran as deep as mine." She saw Leon's face. "Surely this was as obvious as his magic?"

"I fear nothing has been obvious to me," said Leon.

She stroked his hair. "Merlin told me that you loved me in return," she said.

"What," said Leon. "Magic? Predictions?" It was an uncomfortable thought.

"No!" She touched his chin. "He watched you dancing with me."

Leon thought of their dance, their carefree spin around the hall, and knew that Merlin, yet again, was right.

Xxxx

"Is this to be secret?" Leon asked. They lay, still, in each other's arms, reluctant to end this time together.

"Who would you tell?" she said.

"My mother," he said. "She would want to see me happy."

"Your mother." Guinevere laughed. "Then tell her."

"And after that," he said,  "everybody."

She stroked his cheek, the wiry hairs of his beard.

Leon sat up, took the sheet and wrapped it around Guinevere's bare shoulders. "We should marry," he said. "Will you?"

She took his hands, marvelling at his care, his tenderness, and his eternal certainty of what was right. "Leon," she said. "I must think about this."

He said, "Have you not thought about it until this moment?"

"Yes," she said. "Of course. And if  I were only a woman, my answer would be yes. But I must think of Camelot too."

He said, "I do not want to be a secret which could be used against you. Secret love is not fitting for a queen, or a knight. And," laying his hand on her belly, "what if there should be a child?"

"I have never been blessed," she said.

"Nothing is certain," he said. "Such things are mysterious, and miraculous."

She stared at him. Neither dared voice the idea that it had never been the Queen who was unblessed, but the King.

"In any case," said Leon, gathering her to his breast again, "the night is not over yet. There is time to think. You know my wish."

She kissed him.  "I think I have always known it. My dear one, my Leon."

And with these sweet words in his ears Leon embraced the Queen, and gently now, slowly, gave her his love again, until at last, with the larks calling in the sky, they slept.

* * *

 

In the morning Leon rose, and dressed while the Queen lay still sleeping. He stood watching her breathe. That she desired him, loved him, had taken him as her lover - it seemed a dream, yet here she lay, her hair tumbled across the pillow, he shoulders bare.

He donned his mail shirt, and boots, and sword.

She opened her eyes, and sat up. "Dear heart," she murmured, reaching for his hand.

He gave it to her, entwining his fingers with hers, then knelt beside the bed. Her eyes widened. "Marry me," he said.

He waited while she hesitated. A man does not like to think that his lady is not eager, but for a queen, such decisions are not simple.

"Leon," said the Queen.

"My lady."

She raised him to his feet. With the air of command which would always thrill him, she said, "My husband," and drew him in for her kiss.

 

FIN


End file.
